sky shining in the rainy basements, i just spent life in the desert, and am still cleaning out the dust from my throat. between razor blade edges and waking up in sweat, sometimes all we got is that evening look in the lift mirror; eyes wide and torn, skin wearing the day, and a mouth that's born for more.

so we howl from the pointy rooftops of our quarter life
beauty, surrounded by clouds
and shivers, because modern life romance is dead and butchered and sold to us
in little deep fried pieces
on drunk friday nights
we live our little wild minds
holding on to each
other, trembling at any signs
of approaching release

these lines are perfect when you cut them

and night to night our hearts flutter, beats jumping, captured on our wrists. all is snapshots, life a flip book of moments unconnected, blocks of time removed and stacked, flights and fights and dizzying heights internalised, all is lying in bathtubs and dealing with the watered memories of touch and pent up raw sensation spinning my spine. you were roaring last night, silently; moving through the space and into all of our souls, and i could see in your eyes that your heart was burning too.